


It Hurt

by 5SecondsOfButthole



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, Self Harm, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, a little bit of ashton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:06:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/5SecondsOfButthole/pseuds/5SecondsOfButthole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He remembers reading a quote once that said when you get close to someone and open up to them you give them a piece of yourself, and maybe he shouldn’t have given Luke and Cal such big pieces because now that he’s alone those chunks of himself are missing and he needs them more than ever.</p><p>And he thinks that maybe he’s always been sad because looking back all he sees is shades of grey but no white and he thinks that maybe Luke and Calum were the white that mixed with the black and let him be grey but now they're gone and so is the white they brought with them and he’s left only with black.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It hurt. It hurt to see them together. His heart sank every time he saw “Cake” (as they jokingly referred to themselves) together. It wasn’t that Michael was in love with either of them; it was just that, they were his best friends, his only friends and now that they were together they never really had time for him.

Sure they invited him to hang out sometimes but he was constantly stuck third wheeling and he felt so fucking unneeded. Calum never called him when he was sad anymore. Luke never texted him when he was bored. They never invited him to anything anymore unless it had to do with their shitty band. And Michael was trying desperately to be happy for them, he really was, but it was hard to be happy when he was alone so much.

Even before they were together the movies that had been _their_ thing, but when they finally realized how gone they were for each other everything was _their_ thing. Going to McDonalds after school was _their_ thing. Listening to the new All Time Low album was _their_ thing. Sleepovers were _their_ thing. Going to concerts was _their_ thing. Hanging out on the weekends was _their_ thing. Cuddling was _their_ thing.

At first the only thing that wasn’t _their_ thing was lunch time spent in the music room. That was 5 Seconds of Summer’s thing. Their shitty small band whose members didn’t know how to write songs was the only thing that wasn't _theirs_. But then Calum fucked it up and figured out how to match words with chords and wrote Luke a song, it was a shitty song with lyrics so cheesy Michael wanted to barf. But Luke loved it, he asked his boyfriend to play it every day, effectively turning lunch into _their_ thing. Leaving Michael sitting off to the side with his guitar and the chords of the song he thought they were supposed to be practicing for a cover, waiting for them to realize he was still there… they never really did.

So he stopped going to lunch. He stopped doing a lot of things. He stopped texting them. He stopped asking if they wanted to hang out. He stopped tagging along after school. It wasn’t like they needed or wanted him there. They didn’t want or need him in general now that they had each other. They never texted him anymore. They never asked him to hangout. They rarely talked to him in classes they had together.

He didn’t matter anymore. And it hurt.

Calum had always been there. They’d clung to each other in 3rd grade and promised to never let go, but then Luke came along and for a while they all clung to each other, until Michael was pushed to the side. Nothing hurt the way being left behind hurt. Calum was the one constant in his life, when his parents fought, when he was sad, when he was happy, when he was angry, when he was bored, Calum was there. And suddenly he wasn’t. Michael had nothing and no one to lean on.

It had been a whole month since the last time he hung out with them and a week since he’d had a whole conversation when he broke down. For the three months leading up to that day he’d held it together and shoved his emotions to the side, pretending he didn’t care that he was alone. But when his parents were fighting about how to deal with the fact that he was shitty son whose grades were shit and skipped class more often than not, and all he wanted was someone to turn to, pretending he didn’t care didn’t work anymore.

He cried. He’d always hated crying, it made his feel pathetic, and normally he would call Cal who knew how to calm him down and keep him from panicking, but he couldn’t. Calum didn’t care anymore, he had Luke now. So Michael was stuck crying alone, stuck hating himself alone, with no one to tell him he would be okay. And he tries to be quiet; his parents don’t need to worry about him anymore than they already are, but keeping quiet is hard when you’re breaking into what feels like a thousand pieces. Sobs escape his chest and he wraps his arms around himself because maybe if he hugged tight enough he could pull himself together, but it doesn’t work and the sobs continue, and continue, and continue. It feels like he cries for years but no one comes; his parents continue their shouting match.

When his tears run dry he runs to his bathroom and plugs his iPod into the speakers he keeps there for shower singing with shaky hands and turns on All Time Low, trying not to think about how Luke wanted to cover them or about how he and Calum listened to them for the first time together. He turns the volume up until he can’t hear his own thoughts and strips before getting in the shower, turning the water as hot as it will go.

He stands under the hot water and stares at the wall in front of him. There's an empty feeling in his chest, he thinks that maybe it’s what it would feel like if someone tore his heart out. He remembers reading a quote once that said when you get close to someone and open up to them you give them a piece of yourself, and maybe he shouldn’t have given Luke and Cal such big pieces because now that he’s alone and those chunks of himself are missing he needs them more than ever.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there and his legs eventually give out or maybe he just lost the will to stand and he ends up sitting on the shower floor under rapidly cooling water. And as Therapy comes on he feels himself fall apart a little more and tears he didn’t think he was hydrated enough to have fall down his cheeks.

There’s a razor sitting on the tile next to his hand and when his fingers accidentally brush the plastic handle he grips it instinctively. He’s seen a lot of shit about cutting on the internet before and he’s not going to lie to himself and say he’s never thought about it because he has, but last time he thought about it Calum was there to tell him it would be okay. And now he’s alone and he wonders if maybe it helps like people say it does.

So he takes his shampoo bottle and brings it down hard on to the plastic encasing the thin strips of metal, it takes a few tired but he eventually breaks the plastic and the blades fall to the tile and it takes him a few minutes to pick them up with his pruney fingers and wet floor. He stares at his wrist for a minute before saying fuck it, no one cares enough to see them.

He runs the metal lightly over the pale skin, so softly he doesn’t even break the surface. He’s so stupid he can’t even cut himself right. He puts more pressure and moves the tiny blade quicker and is rewarded with a stinging pain and a few spots of blood dotting the line; he felt almost nothing, it was like he just pinched himself, this couldn’t be what everyone talked about online. He does it one more time, lining the small piece of metal underneath the two previous lines and pressing harder than before; he gasps at the pain that shoots through him and watches the blood bubble to the surface, it was almost mesmerizing. And maybe he gets it now. Maybe. Watching the blood is almost hypnotizing, it gathers in small puddles before slipping over the edge of his forearm and dripping down until it hits the tile and mixes with the water.

And the pain is the perfect way to distract himself; he’s not thinking about how alone he is while he watches the blood, he’s not thinking about how Calum and Luke are probably texting that very moment. He's focused on the pain emitting from his thigh and the water turning red.

Except maybe it scared him a little bit, because pain isn’t supposed to feel like that, it wasn’t supposed to make him feel better. So he leaves it at 3 cuts and turns the now cold water off before putting the blades somewhere they won’t be found and turning his music off and laying in bed for hours wishing he could fall asleep.

He feels numb the next day and he just goes through the motions. Gets up and puts on the first clothes he sees (a dirty shirt and sweat pants with a hole in the crotch), skips breakfast and ignores his parents when they ask in the most condescending voice he’d ever heard if he was even planning on going to school, and spends the entire day at school sitting alone listening to music that made him feel not so alone. He got home and laid in bed for hours before going on Facebook because maybe seeing stupid people’s posts about nothing will make him smile and that would be nice but the first thing he sees is a picture of his best friends ( ~~ex-best friends~~?) with Luke kissing Calum’s cheek and Calum smiling like he finally as everything he’s ever wanted. And fuck. Michael used to make him smile like that, and Calum used to make Michael smile like that too. But now they don’t even talk and Michael is alone.

And the worst part is that it was probably his fault. His fault for not being more important. His fault for being annoying and boring. His fault for not being good enough. His fault for not being funny enough. His fault for not being talented enough. His fault for not being enough. He was never enough. Not for Calum and Luke and not for his parents, not even for himself.

He slams his laptop closed and crawls into his bed and he kind of wants to know if hurting will make him feel better but he can’t really bring himself to do it again. So he lies in bed and listens to music until he falls asleep.

The next day is the same but with more sad. And the more days that pass the more the sad grows until it’s the only thing he feels. Because he hates how he lets himself be so pathetic. He hates how he can’t even be happy for Luke and Cal. He hates how he makes his parents fight. He hates how he can’t concentrate in class because all he wants to do is go home and lay in his bed and maybe cry while he listens to music. He hates how he hates everything. He hates himself so much.

And he cuts again two weeks after the first time and this time he feels like he almost knows what he’s doing. Except not because the cuts bleed a lot longer than he thought they would, but in the end he kind of likes it that way, because watching the blood drain was like watching his sadness drain away. And yes it hurt. But it was a good hurt. And maybe that was fucked up but he didn’t really have it in him to care.

The first time he hurt himself it scared him but not this time. He thinks that, yes, he completely gets why people do this. He sees what they mean when they say it helps. He thinks that maybe it would be better to do this more so he can watch the sad drain with the red.

The sense of relief from his sadness doesn’t last long but it’s long enough to make it worth it. Hurting is better than thinking.

It becomes a regular thing. For two months. He goes through the motions, tries to make his parents happy and go to school, but school makes it so much worse because his teachers take away his headphones when they catch him using them; he doesn’t have music to distract him from the fact that no one needs him, and wants him, and no one talks to him, and he’s so alone if he disappeared no one would notice.

The thought of disappearing, leaving, crosses his mind occasionally but Calum and Luke still smile at him the hall despite the fact that they hadn’t spoken in almost three months and maybe they would miss the smile he sends back.

He wonders if they see the difference, if they care. Do they miss him or are they happy with just each other? Do they wonder why he’s always alone? Do they wonder why he only wears long sleeved shirts? He tries not to let himself think about them too much because they’re happier without him and thinking out it always ends in him crying because he wasn’t good enough. He’s never good enough and it hurts.

And life goes on the same for a few more weeks and his arms are covered in pink scars and red cuts and it’s the least pale he’s ever been and its almost funny except it’s getting hotter and he wants to wear short sleeved shirts but he can’t. And it makes him sad so he adds a few more lines to his collection of cuts and lets the relief wash over him as his sad drains away.

Calum and Luke have stopped smiling at him in the halls. And it hurts. Because now he _knows_ he’s done something wrong. It really was his fault. And he’d know it all along but now there's no doubt that he was the one to ruin it.

His parents still fight and yell at each other and at him. And he’s not good enough, not smart enough, not put together enough, not nice enough, not enough. He's never enough. And it hurts.

And one day his dad doesn’t come home from work. He never comes home again, because he took all his things and ran away from his family. His mom doesn’t talk to him for a month and a half and he thinks maybe she hates him but then he knows. His mom blames him.

One day when school was too much and he needed to get out and went home early she was waiting. She tells him if he hadn’t pissed his dad off so much this wouldn't have happened. He runs to his room and locks the door before she can finish her yelling, not that it stops her, she just keeps shouting at him through the door.

It was all his fault. Always his fault. Everything would be better if he just disappeared. He fucked everything up. And he really needs someone right now and his blades are across the hall in the bathroom and he doesn’t want to open the door and face his mother. So he settles for scratching at the cuts already on his arms but the sad isn’t going away and it feels like its growing bigger by the second and he can’t do it. And he really really needs someone right now.

And he knows he shouldn’t. It’s been almost 4 months since the last time they talked but fuck the idea of ending everything sounds so fucking nice right now. But he doesn’t want to die, not really, he just wants the hurting to end and if maybe someone could convince him there’s a way for that to happen he won’t have to leave so he could feel better? So he picks up his phone and wipes away the tears he hadn’t really registered running down his cheeks and calls the person he misses most in the word, Calum.

And it rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. And then voice mail.

He lets out a sob because, fuck, Cal really didn’t care anymore did he. And it feels like there's nothing left but he calls his very last hope and prays the blond boy will answer.

And the phone rings. And rings. And rings. And rings. And then voice mail.

He's ruined it all. He was never enough. They're happier without him. His mom will be happier without him. His dad didn’t even want him. He’s not enough and it hurts. It hurts too much. And the sad hasn’t left for the past 7 months, maybe longer but before then he had Calum and Luke to make him forget about it. And now there's no way to forget about it. Not if he stays. And the only thing he can think of is leaving.

If he leaves he won’t have to be sad and alone and hurt and pathetic and worthless. And no one will miss him so what’s there to stop him?

And there’s a belt on the floor and it couldn’t be that hard to off himself with it, right? All he would have to do is wrap it around his neck and tighten it until he stopped breathing. He could do that. And he does that.

And it hurts. And his mom is still yelling, he can hear her through the door but he ignores the abuse she shouts at him. And the screen of his phone stays black. And he pulls harder on the belt. And it hurts. And his lungs still want air but he refuses to let them have it. And it hurts. It burns. His fingers start to go numb and he fights to keep hold of the belt. And the leather is biting into his skin. And it hurts. And his vision is starting to blurr. And his arms and legs give out and he loses his grip on the belt as he falls to the ground. And it hurts. Air rushes back into his lungs. And it hurts.

Fuck. He couldn't even kill himself right.

And he feels weaker than ever. Not just mentally but physically too because his arms feel like they weigh 50 pounds each and his legs feel like they're pinned under a car and his chest is heaving and his breathing is still shaky and his eyes are closing and he feels himself falling into unconsciousness. And that was what he wanted but he knows he’ll wake up again and that wasn’t the point.

He wakes up some undetermined amount of time later and its dark outside. But he doesn’t even care. He’s numb. And he’s been numb before but this is different, it feels deeper, like it reaches farther into his body. He turns his head and it hurts, he probably bruised it. Great. He sits up and grabs his ipod from the floor where it fell out of his pocket earlier, checks the time (2:56 a.m.), puts it on shuffle.

He feels like this should be more dramatic. He should be crying and screaming and running to find something to off himself with, because that’s what happens in movies but all he wants to do is lay on his bed and listen to music until he sleeps again. And that’s what he does.

He doesn’t go to school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. And he only moves to eat, and pee, and grab his charger because his iPod and phone are dead and he needs music. And he brings a towel and his blades into his room to lessen the amount of time he spends out of bed. And his neck still hurts and there’s a purple bruise in the shape of his belt and it hurts. He hates it. He hates everything.

Thinking was never a good thing for him but maybe now it is because he’s under no illusions of what his life is and who he is and who his friends are. First, his life is pathetic. Because second, he’s a horrible person who fucks everything up. And third, his old friends are lucky to have each other because it finally gave them a chance to get away from him which they probably wanted all along.

And he thinks that maybe he’s always been sad because looking back all he sees is shades of grey but no white and he thinks that maybe Luke and Calum were the white that mixed with the black and let him be grey but now they're gone and so is the white and he’s left only with black.

His mom yells at him that she’ll kick him out unless he goes to school so he goes, unshowered, in stained sweatpants and the first hoodie he’d seen that morning. And he doesn’t bother covering his neck because no one’s going to look that closely at him and if they did there was no way they would care enough to ask why there was a slowly fading purple bruise on his neck.

And school and life continue the way they did before. He fades into the background and Luke and Calum shine like the fucking sun and don’t even notice him. He goes through the motions and cuts when the numb and the sad are too much. And his mom yells but that’s okay because he’ll try again soon and maybe this time he’ll actually die.

He sees Luke and Calum hanging out with a new kid, he thinks he heard someone call him Ashton, and it hurts. Because they don’t want him but they want someone else.

He wasn’t good enough. He never was. He wasn’t good enough for his dad. For his mom. For them. For himself. He was so fucking pathetic and worthless no wonder they left him.

And maybe it’s time he leaves for good.

So on the month anniversary of the first time he tried to end it. He tries again.

He grabs the half full bottle of Tylenol and slowly swallows each one. And he doesn’t feel anything. And just in case the pills aren’t enough he makes a few deep cuts on each wrist. He doesn’t leave a note. No one will even want to know. No one would care enough to even wonder why.

 And as he watched his blood pool around him, and feels his heart beat stutter and his eyes slowly slip shut and all he can see is black he dreams of a world where Calum and Luke never got together, where they never left him alone, where he was stronger, where his dad never left, his mom loved him, and where 5 Seconds of Summer put out a chart topping album, went on tour and won awards.

The last thought he has is a replay of the day before Calum and Luke got together; they're at his house, in his room, messing around with their guitars and talking about how one day they were going to find a drummer and play some gigs and become a proper band. And Michael swears to god he can hear the cheesy speech Luke told them that day echo in his room, _“I think we could do it. Fuck that. I know we can do it. We just have to stick together and practice. So long as we’re doing that everything’ll be great. We’ll be great.”_

And then black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They aren’t the same since losing Mikey but they're okay. The world didn’t stop turning and their lives went on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Calum Luke and Ashton's reactions to Michael's suicide. Goes off of the end of chapter one.

Ashton stands outside of Luke’s door the same way he has everyday since they all heard the news. He never met Michael but he’d heard enough about him from Luke and Calum to know that he’d been important to them. He’d sat through so many lunch periods listening to them argue over how and when they were going to talk to Michael again but in the end those conversations didn’t matter. It would be a lie to say that he knew what his friends were going through right now; they had just lost one of their best friends. He can’t even say he knows them very well yet, he’s only known them for a few weeks now but it still hurts him to see them so broken.

His hand slowly raises and knocks on the wood, “Luke? Can I come in?” He honestly doesn’t expect much in the way of an answer, considering the fact that he hasn’t gotten more than a muffled “go away” every time he’s tried so far. So needless to say he was surprised when the door opened to reveal a tired looking Luke with tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Hey,” the sad boy’s voice is low and hoarse and Ashton’s heart breaks upon hearing it.

“Hey, how are you?”

“Fucking terrible,” Luke moves away from the door and flops down onto his unmade bed, leaving Ashton to stand awkwardly in the doorway.

“Well.. do, do you want to talk about it?”

“I-I don’t even know what the fuck I'm supposed to say.” He takes a deep shaky breath, “Michael’s fucking gone. H-he fucking ki-killed-” the younger blond breaks down into sobs.

Ashton rushes over to the bed and pulls the crying boy into his arms, letting him cry into his shoulder, “Hey, hey it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”

Luke brings his small hands up to grip the fabric of Ashton’s shirt, stuttering over the words he manages to choke out between sobs, “No it’s not Ash. He’s fucking gone. He killed himself because we weren’t there for him. Its all my fucking fault. Calum wanted to go talk to him but I was fucking dumb and wanted to fucking wait until he talked to us. If I had just agreed with Calum and we had just gone over and talked to him he could still be here! I fucked up. And-and now Cal won’t answer the phone when I call him and I bet he blames me too. Fuck. I- I can’t believe I let him drift away from us like that. I fucking watched him fall apart and did nothing about it. I-I could’ve done something. I could’ve talked to him. I-I-” His breathing hitches and his sobs become louder, “Did you know I threw up when I heard? It-its my fucking fault and it makes me so sick to my stomache to think I could’ve done so much more than I did. I-i-i-I I could’ve fucking helped him. he didn’t even leave a note Ash. Why, w-w-would you not leave a letter?”

“Shh, shh it’s okay Luke. I need you to breathe for me yeah? Can you do that? ” Ashton exaggerates his breathing, making sure his chest floats up and down in a steady rhythm, hoping it will help Luke remember he needs to breathe. And Luke nods against his chest but his breathing doesn’t get better and his sobs don’t quiet. “Why don’t we go visit Calum together? Because I'm sure he doesn’t want to be alone right now and I'm sure he doesn’t blame you okay?”

Luke sniffs and nods his head before quickly pulling away from Ashton and roughly wiping away the tears on his cheeks.

Luke’s hand is trembling as he reaches up and knocks on Calum’s door, the only thing keeping him from running or collapsing is Ashton’s large hand and strong grip. The door slowly opens to reveal Calum, who looks like he hasn’t even thought about eating or drinking since they heard, his eyes are sunken and his eyes are even more blood shot than Luke’s.

His voice is hoarse and rough and quiet, “Hey you guys.”

And Luke seeing his boyfriend like this and knowing that he can't fix it makes the pain of losing Michael all the worse and he can’t stop the tears and sobs that quickly find their way out as he launches himself at his boyfriend and tackles him to the ground. Calum's arms quickly wrap around the blonde boy’s body and the sounds of his sobs quickly match Luke’s.

“I’m sorry Cal I'm so fucking sorry,” Luke gets out between his sobs, “You were right about Mikey. We should’ve talked to him and its my fucking fault we didn’t and now he’s- he’s fucking gone because of me. I'm so sorry please don’t hate me.”

“It’s my fault, I was the one who was too chicken to go to him alone and now he’s fucking gone and there’s nothing I can do about it. I-I could never hate you Luke. I just. I need you right now. Please just hold me?” Calum sounds so defeated all Luke can do is pull him closer.

Ashton watches the couple for a minute; he can’t imagine how hard this must be. Just watching them breakdown like this is hard. Here they are both blaming themselves for something out of their control, as if they were the ones who killed Michael. And the longer he stands there the more out of place he feels. He shouldn’t be here. He brought Luke to Calum and now his self-assigned job is done. They can find support in each other.

He gently reaches out to the crying boys and lays a gentle hand on Luke’s shoulder, rubbing gently in what he hopes is a comforting way, “I’m going to get going. You guys know you can text me if you need me at all. For anything okay?”

Calum lifts his head from his boyfriend’s shoulder and gives ash a halfhearted watery smile, “Thanks. You know for bring here for us and stuff… and for bringing Luke to me.”

 

The funeral takes place a few days later and people from school who never even spoke to Mikey show up, crying as if they were the ones who lost their best friends. And it pisses Calum off but he doesn’t say anything, he didn’t talk to Michael for months, he’s just as bad if not worse than them. He never knew he could cry this much and it’s only Luke and Ashton’s hands in his keeping him from falling apart in front of everyone. Michael’s mom had wanted them to give speeches but when it came down to it they just couldn’t do it. It felt wrong. They had no right to pretend they knew Mikey.

They abandoned him. they were too wrapped up in each other to look at him and when they realized what they had done it was too fucking late. You would think that the distance they had let grown between them and their friend would’ve made losing him easier. But it doesn’t. it makes it worse.

It leaves them with questions that will never be answered. They will never know why he did it. They will never know how long he had felt that way. Was it their fault? Or was it a chemical imbalance that broke him down?

The hardest part is that their lives will still go on without him. The world around them didn’t stop turning when Michael died. They still have to go to school.

Ashton’s been there for them the whole time, despite the fact that they hadn’t really know each other that well before it happened. They don’t think anyone else could’ve been as supportive and amazing about it all the way Ash was.

Luke and Calum find out that Ashton plays drums and after hours of debating they ask him if he wants to be in a band with them. At first its hard because the music room is filled with memories of Michael and his laugh and the guitar in the back of the room was the only one he would use and Luke’s hasn’t let himself even look at it.

They work well together. They have fun despite the memories of Michael that haunt them. They almost call it off multiple times but they’d like to think that Mikey would've loved this, being in a proper band with a drummer and everything. And they all sound great when they sing together, sometimes they write lyrics they know would’ve been perfect for Michael to sing and verses that scream his name and its hard and it hurts. It takes a lot time and debating to decide whether or not to keep the mane 5 Seconds Of Summer but in the end they do because Michael came up with it and this way tehres still a little bit of Mikey in the band.

Ashton isn’t affected by the memories because he doesn’t have them. Luke almost envies him for it, but he tries to look back on in sadness of what he’s missing but happiness of what he had. And it doesn’t always work and he sometimes needs to let himself cry.

Calum likes to pretend he’s okay all the time. Like one of the most important people in his life isn’t gone forever but the truth is he spends everyday wishing he’d done something, asking himself what if?

They aren’t the same since losing Mikey but they're okay. The world didn’t stop turning and their lives went on. A boy band called One Direction discover their YouTube channel and asks them to open for them on their world tour, and they like to think that if Michael were still here he would've pushed them to go for it. So they do. And they blow up. They dedicate their first album to Michael and 10% of the profits go to suicide prevention.

There is not a concert where they don’t tell their fans that they will be missed if they try to take their own lives. They tell them about their old friend Michael and how much they missed him everyday. They hope their words make a difference this time. Because losing someone to themselves hurts, especially when you could’ve been there for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this fic. This wasn't as poetic as the otehr chapters but I hope you liked it. 
> 
> Feel free to tell me what your favorite part of the fic was. I would love to know :)


	3. Chapter 3

The Alternate Ending that was a part of this fic is being continued as it's own fic called Damage Done.

They have basically the same first chapters but that is where the similarities end.

The third chapter of this fic has been deleted and moved to DD if you are wondering.

I won’t be posting on this fic again so if you want to see updates subscribe to Damage Done there are three chapters thus far the two from here and a new one.

Hope you guys end up liking Damage Done!


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